


Cover-up

by Steena



Series: Closer 'verse [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Barricade being embarrassed of his fantasies - again, Bondage, Cuddling, Double Penetration, Everything is consensual, Fake interrogation, Fingering, Gangbang, Interrogation, Making Porn, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Rape Fantasy, Spitroasting, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: "Don't stop, Autobot!" Barricade growls."Ya like tha', don'cha? Pervy li'l Con, wanna get fragged inta tha floor by yer enemy."On the screen, Barricade overloads so hard his optics flicker. Every mech in the room stares in stunned silence before slowly turning to him.Well, frag.On his quest to try out all the kinky stuff that turns him on, Barricade and Jazz ends up doing an amateur porno flick. With Barricade's usual luck, the thing falls into the wrong servos and ends up being played in Decepticon high command. They scramble to come up with a plan to cover up his treason and Jazz's plan is... unorthodox, to say the least.





	Cover-up

**Author's Note:**

> The video they make is a little rough, and it's seen from the point of view of Decepticon high command, just as they planned it to look. Barricade was very into this and I have tried to stress that in this story. I don't think it needs a warning, but some might still not find it their cup of tea, even though it should be obvious to the reader that they are just playing.

Of course it's _Frenzy_ , the little  _shit_  that he is. Who else would project _that_  on the wall instead of going to Megatron with it? 

_Or, if one was so inclined, use it for blackmail?_  

And the fragging symbiote is cackling like a deranged cartoon figure, if it wasn't obvious enough already.

Barricade looks around, mortified, as the rest of the command room falls silent enough to hear a pin drop.  _Except the playback of him moaning like a two credit pleasurebot._

Soundwave is as inscrutable as always. Starscream's wings have hitched up and his intake is wide open in shock. Scrapper scratches his helm, as if not comprehending what he's actually seeing. Blackout is looking back and forth between Barricade and the clip playing out in too vivid colors, too large enhancement, too high quality of the fragging  _sounds_. The Mustang feels himself go cold when he sees it played like this,  _in front of everyone_.

He watches in horror as the vid clip of himself, legs spread wide over Jazz's lap and the Autobot pounding into him plays out for all to see. The angle is perfect to see how every slide if his spike makes the lubricant well out of Barricade's valve. He hears his own mewls and whines, the obscene squelching noise for every thrust. Jazz's thumb working his node, the flickering of his biolights that clearly displays exactly how much he enjoys it.

"Don't stop, Autobot!" Barricade growls. 

"Ya like tha', don'cha? Pervy li'l Con, wanna get fragged inta tha floor by yer enemy."

On the screen, Barricade overloads so hard his optics flicker. Every mech in the room stares in stunned silence before slowly turning to him.

  
_Well, frag._

 

*****

 

He manages to convince them that he needs a week to find proof that he's innocent, that it isn't what they think.

As soon as he's out of the command room, he requests a comm with Jazz. The Saboteur answers immediately.

"H'llo sweetspark, y'already horny again?"

"Our movie has gone viral! We need some kind of damage control." He says in panic. 

_He's being accused for being a_ traitor _for frags sake._  Barricade carefully avoids the subject of the possibility of that assumption being true, considering he  _is_  sleeping with the enemy.  _Literally._

"Chillax, mah mech. Tha Jazzmeister is gunna fix this. Slow down 'n' take it from tha beginnin'."

Barricade takes a deep vent, trying to calm his racing spark. Just speaking to Jazz has a grounding effect on him and he feels himself start to process more rationally.  _They can salvage this._

He hurriedly tells Jazz about the mortifying event in Decepticon high command and Barricade can almost hear the cogs turning in Jazz's processor.

_Jazz will come up with a good plan. Of course he will._

 

*****

Jazz's plan is  _nothing_  like what he had imagined.  _Not that he's complaining_...

Only Jazz could ever come to the conclusion that the best way to solve this is making _another_  fragvid.

When he suggested it in the first place, Barricade stared at the Autobot, waiting for him to burst into laughter and tell the Decepticon that he was joking, but he didn't. No, he was dead serious.

The Spy then proceeded in that way of his, pulling answers and confessions out of the increasingly embarrassed Interceptor until the outlines of a plan was drawn up. Barricade stuttered through the graphic explanations Jazz coaxed out of him of what his fantasies  _really_  entailed. That the Saboteur seemed to understand exactly what he wanted without the slightest hint of a pause made it a little easier and when the Bot suggested tweaks and _additions_ to the game, Barricade gaped in stunned disbelief until his cooling fans dialled up another notch as he realized yet another couple of kinks he hadn't known he had.

Making preparations for the recording took a couple of days, but he finds himself getting ready for it quicker than he thought possible. Truth be told, even in his wildest defrags, he would never have come up with this scenario.  _But it's exciting._

"Ya still okay with this?" Jazz asks.

"Yeah." Barricade replies shakily. "Just a little nervous."

"Don' be. Jus' say 'Megatron' or wave ya servo o' pulse whatever ye're feelin' into yer field in case ya need ta stop."

Barricade nods as he watches Jazz place the last camera in the corner and check the chains.

Ironhide claps the Saleen on the shoulder, turning the assuring gesture into something more lascivious with a deft stroke of a sensitive shoulderwing and the Weapons specialist smirks when Barricade's vents hitches from the stimulation, before leaving the room as Jazz finishes his tasks.

"You need to wipe down before we start, sweetspark. Your panel is already leaking." Jazz whispers in his audial, a lecherous grin audible in his voice.

Barricade takes a deep vent, wiping himself between his legs absentmindedly.  _Showtime._

*****

 

_Well, this was awkward._

More awkward than he thought possible. He tries to reel in his EM field, afraid that he will broadcast too much.

Barricade stares at the screen, the video clip paused, showing a still of him splayed out on a table, the Autobot Spy's spike buried in his intake and the Weapons specialist's spike hilted in his valve.

He overrides his insistent cooling fans for the eight consecutive time.  _Jazz was right, he sure is a kinky little fragger._ Getting turned on by this... Bad timing! _Bad Mustang!_

"This is not your fault, you know." Starscream rasps.

Barricade squirms, a trickle dribbling out of his valve and he freezes up, hoping his panel won't leak.

"I'll contact Prime about this. There has to be some limits even in war and they crossed a line here. What's to stop them from doing this again?" Megatron rumbles angrily.

Barricade works his intake without getting a sound out of his vocalizer.

"Is that why you wanted me to frag you? Some sort of coping mechanism?" Blackout asks.

Every Decepticon in the meeting room looks back and forth between the Helicopter and the Mustang.

"Yes?" Barricade sqeaks.

"There's no shame in this. They turned your frame against you and used you. You did the right thing, leaving a charge like that unreleased might harm the systems." Onslaught states quietly.

Barricade stares into his lap. The other's probably take it for embarrassment, but Barricade is really checking his panel for leakage.

"Unfortunately, this has done a lap around the entire base before it landed on command's table. All Cons on Earth have seen it and more than a few enjoyed it." Starscream sounds dismayed.

Barricade overrides his fans again. He knew it would spread like wildfire around the base and he agreed with it when they 'accidentaly' let the video slip, but the Decepticons doesn't know that. He has caught the other Cons looking at him the last week. Some with nasty smiles, some with pity.  _He knows what they've seen and it turns him on._

Right now though, Barricade can't stop thinking about that video,  _the recording of it,_  and he really,  _really_  wants to get out of here.

"Have you got a handle on Vortex?" Megatron asks, turning to Onslaught.

"Yes, he will not  _actively_  try to get caught."

Barricade rolls his optics. Of course the stupid Helo would want something like that to happen to him for real.  _On the other servo, it wasn't like Barricade didn't come up with some of the script..._  His cooling fans almost slips by his override.

"We're going to watch it again." Onslaught says.

_Of course they will. It's a damned hot fragvid._

"For the sake of planning what to tell Prime when we contact him, of course." Megatron fills in, glaring at the Combaticon.

Barricade almost snickers.  _They all think it's fucking hot, but they can't say it._  

He makes a face when he feels another trickle behind his panel. Starscream misinterprets it, thinking the Interrogator is uncomfortable for other reasons.

"You don't have to stay if it's hard for you to watch."

Barricade gratefully takes the chance to bolt. As the door to his quarters is sliding shut, he yanks the false spike Jazz has made for him, a replica of the Autobot's own, out of subspace, fastens the suction cup to the floor and opens his panel, lubricant that has been trapped there running down his legs and he sinks down on the spike with a relieved groan.

He replays the clip internally, thankful for his indulgent lover, and sends a commrequest to Jazz. 

_Phone sex it will be._

 

*****

 

They watch Barricade's hurried exit with as close to sympathy Cons can have. None of them are exactly fuzzy bunnies, but even in interrogation, they haven't done anything like this. It isn't hard to understand why Barricade seems so rattled by it, ashamed that there is footage of what happened and that everybot has seen it. As far as they know, he hasn't told anybot about it until it was outed in a rather spectacular way. Soundwave has punished Frenzy for that little stunt. As bad as it seemed at first, intel should be thoroughly checked before conclusions are drawn.

As soon as the doors close behind the Interceptor, they turn back to the screen and restart the clip.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Barricade is dragged into the interrogation room by a mech identified as Ricochet; a grunt, and Weapons specialist Ironhide. The Decepticon is shackled with magnacuffs but still struggles valiantly. They wrangle him to the wall where Ricochet hooks chains to the cuffs, not without trouble from the snarling Con.

"Would you hold still, you little glitch?" Ironhide growls, mechhandling the Interceptor and pushing his back hard against the wall.

"Frag you, Autobolt." Barricade hisses.

"In your defrags, Decepticreep." Ironhide smirks at the smaller grounder.

Ricochet finishes and walks to a control panel. The cuffs demagnetize and the chains immediately is winched taut, leaving the Decepticon standing spread eagled with his back against the wall.

"I have to make up a smokescreen for this for Prime. Can you handle him alone for a little while?" The Weapons specialist asks the other Autobot.

"Of course." Ricochet scoffs.

"Don't get too...  _creative_  without me." He leers with a glance at Barricade.

Ironhide leaves, the smaller Bot turning back to the chained up Con with a decidedly nasty smirk. Barricade looks a little wary, not his usual arrogance. He has been caught and interrogated before, but something is off about how the Autobots handles it this time.

Ricochet opens a drawer and takes out a drill and a small pry bar before he comes to stand in front of the Decepticon.

"Aren't you going to ask me questions first?" Barricade sneers, trying to throw the Bot off by showing he knows the game.

"Ta wha' point? Ya'll go 'I won't tell ya jack shit', I'll go 'tell meh or I'll such 'n' such', we'll throw insults 'n' get nowhere. Boooring."

He holds up the tools with a grin.

"That's not very impressive." Barricade smirks cockily, regaining some of his normal composure.

The Autobot subspaces the tools and steps closer.  _Too close_. Barricade flinches away when a servo trails lazily down his side before talons dip between his plating. The Interceptor hisses and jerks when something under there is tweaked. The Bot clearly knows where to hit.

"Well, I  _was_  told not ta get too creative, wasn' I?"

The Decepticon remains silent. Ricochet steps back and steeples his digits against his lip plates, considering the Mustang. To his credit, Barricade doesn't squirm under the intense stare, he just glares back. The Autobot seems to come to a conclusion. He steps forward again, falling to his knees in front of the shackled prisoner.

Then he crosses the line. His servos comes up to touch Barricade's interface plate, talons questing around the seams.

"Get your filthy servos  _off_  of me, Autonut!" Barricade growls while he tries to back away. It is useless, of course. The wall stops him and the chains are still pulled tight.

"Actually, I washed my servos not tha' long ago. But don' worry, I intend ta...  _get off,_ alright." A lecherous smile stretches the Autobot's intake. "Wanna make this easier? Open up for me, hm?" He taps the plate.

" _No,_ I _won't!_  What in the pit do you think you're doing?!" Barricade thrashes in his bindings.

"I'm bein' jus' a li'l bit _creative_." Ricochet smirks. "'m thinkin' 'bout if I should try ta find tha latches..." He dips his talons deeper into the seam, earning a buck and a glare from his prisoner. 

"...or jus'  _pry_  it open." He pulls harshly at the edge of the plate and Barricade cries out, frame going rigid.

The Autobot starts to stroke the plate gently, rubbing it softly and dipping into the seams carefully. Barricade squirms.

"Ya could open up yerself..."

"Frag you!" Barricade snarls.

The Autobot smirks.

"It would be tha oth'r way 'roun', if ya jus' open up... I can feel ya gettin' hot..." Ricochet sing-songs.

Barricade doesn't open his plate. He isn't defeated and remain defiant. Ricochet just shrugs and unlatches the locks easily, clearly already having figured out where they are. The Autobot thug pushes the plate aside and looks at the valve before him. He grabs the drilling machine and Barricade starts struggling in earnest with his chains. 

"No,  _please_! What do you need to know?! I'll tell you anything I can! Please don't!" He cries out, voice panicked.

Ricochet grabs his hip and holds him more still, looking up with a nasty little smile.

"Ya know, I suggest ya stay still fer this. Wouldn' wanna make meh slip, now would'ya?"

Barricade stills and offlines his optics. The sound of the drilling and the Autobot's humming out of tune is the only sound before drilled out rivets starts to fall to the floor. The plate is removed and Ricochet throw it over his shoulder, sliding the drill away across the floor.

The Interceptor seems frozen as the Autobot stares hungrily at his bared array.

"Tha'ssa good look on ya,  _Barricade._  All easy ta access."

"What do you _want_  from me, Autobot?! I have no information for you to gain!" Barricade glares at the Bot, trying to get the interrogation back on a normal track.

Ricochet rises to his pedes, visor meeting the optics of his prisoner. A slow smile tugs at his intake when his servo slips between the Saleen's legs and Barricade tugs furiously at the chains holding his arms extended.

"I wanna _fuck_  ya. Use ya as tha  _fragtoy_  y'are. 'N' yer goin' ta  _like_  it." 

The Autobot chuckles when Barricade start snarling insults and struggling with his chains, unsuccessfully trying to avoid the digits slipping through his folds.

"I'm _never_  going to like interfacing with a filthy  _Autobot_!" Barricade spits. "These methods can't be sanctioned by Prime!"

"Yeah, ya will. I can feel ya goin' hot 'n' wet already. Ya'll be  _beggin_  fer it." 

Ricochet grins when Barricade's vents hitch from his ministrations.

"'N' nah; tha Prime doesn't know. Actually, nobot knows yer here, Bot  _or_  Con. 'Cept me 'n' Hide. Ain't gonna be nobot comin' ta save ya or bargain for ya. Only way outta here is when we decide we're done with ya."

Barricade goes still and silent in dawning horror. He slumps in his chains and offlines his optics. It displeases the Autobot. 

"None o' tha slag!" He hisses and tweaks something under Barricade's ventral plating.

Barricade groans, a sound not clearly pained or pleasured, and his optics flashes back online. Two digits disappears into his valve and Ricochet starts pumping lazily. The Interceptor shudders. 

" _Please_  don't." Barricade whispers.

The Autobot pays no mind to his plea and starts to slide his digits out all the way, rubbing over the Mustang's anterior node before sliding back in and Barricade jerks in his chains, to get away or for more friction is impossible to say.

"Aaw, don' be like tha'. Ye're gettin' so  _wet_. I kno' ya like it."

The Decepticon doesn't answer but when another digit is added, he whines. Ricochet increases the pace and busies his other servo with tweaking hidden cables and wires under Barricade's armor. The Decepticon gasps and his frame twitches when his anterior node is touched. Soon enough, the digits that are pumped in and out of his valve makes obscene, squelching sounds with every move.

They both turn when the door opens, admitting the imposing form of the Weapons specialist. Ricochet grins at the other Autobot. Barricade makes a distressed sound and yanks at his chains again.

"He's drippin' all over tha floor." Ricochet laughs and motions to the stained concrete before wiping his smeared servo on Barricade.

Barricade keens and turns his helm away in humiliation, wriggling uselessly.

"Yeah, I can see that. I told you not to start without me." Ironhide grunts, clearly displeased.

"Jus' said I could'na get  _too_  creative." Ricochet says unrepentantly.

The smaller Autobot movs out of the way, allowing the Frontliner to take his place. Ironhide's optics roam the chained up Decepticon, stopping at his valve.

"I like this look on you,  _Con._  Exposed for your betters to see, to use as we see fit. Wet and charged for us, like a needy pleasuredrone."

A thick digit is pushed inside Barricade's wet valve, just to the first knuckle.  _As if it is their right to touch him like that._ Barricade makes a strange sobbing sound when the Weapons specialist swirls his digit, hitting nodes inside, and they laugh.

"He's really starting to like it." Ironhide leers.

"No, I don't!" Barricade hisses, but his vocalizer cuts out when two blunt digits are eased into him.

"Putting up a lot of fuzz?" Ironhide rumbles to Ricochet.

"Stubborn li'l glitch, jus' needs ta learn his place." Ricochet smirks. "Think he's startin' ta warm up."

"Mhm, tight little thing. Wonder if I'll even fit..."

"Ha, ya'll jus'  _make_  yerself fit, big guy."

Barricade whines.

"Aww, look! Tough guy's afraid of yer spike." Ricochet mocks.

"Hey, is this a seal?!" Ironhide asks incredulously, pulling his digits out of the Con.

Ricochet pushes his talons in deep, feeling around.  _As if it is a free for all_. Barricade looks away, clearly distressed. The Autobot laughs triumphantly.

"It is! Dibs on breakin' it! He'll be tight 'nuff fer ya anyway."

The Weapons specialist grumbles but doesn't argue.

"Why,  _Barricade_ , I'm  _honored_! Ricochet mocks, fans roaring to life.

"Little less conversation, a little more action, please." Ironhide growls.

They start to really work the Decepticon's frame, the Topkick stretching his valve and rubbing his anterior node, Ricochet tweaking sensitive parts under his plating. Barricade is trembling and whining but soon enough, charge is crackling over his wires, the Interceptor visibly grinding down on the digits in his valve.

" _Please!_ " His voice is a hoarse whisper of static.

"Beg you pardon?" Ironhide says even though he obviously heard.

"I...  _please_  let me overload." Barricade sounds defeated.

"'N' how would tha' happen? Say it, pleasurebot. What's in it fer meh?" Ricochet asks.

Barricade seems to war with himself.

"Frag me."

The Autobots laugh.

"Told ya he's a slut, Hide. Get 'im down."

The chains loosen their tension and Barricade moves around, working out his joints, probably stiff by now.

"Remember ya're chanceless. We're two, yer one, tha door's locked, sound- 'n' shatterproof. Ya ain't gettin' out until we're done with ya. So don' fight, ya'll jus' leave more dented. Or more fragged. Think we could comm a'  _least_  a couple o' Frontliners more 'n' let them join in on tha fun." Ricochet says jovially as he unhooks the chains and grabs one of Barricade's arms, wrenching it up behind his back.

"If ya fight, ya'll lose it."

The arm is pushed upwards, forcing the Saleen to bend over until gravity wins out, forcing him to his knees. His face is pressed against the floor and Ricochet uses his pedes to spread the Mustang's legs.

"Look how wet he is. Horny little thing." Ironhide comments, pumping his digits into Barricade's valve a couple of times for good measure.

_Right in front of the camera._  Lubricant dribbles out with the motion and the Interceptor's biolights flicker when his valve visibly clenches.

"Right,  _Decepticreep_ , this is gonna hurt." Ricochet smirks.

He hilts himself straight away and Barricade cries out. The Autobot sets a punishing pace and Barricade mewls every time he bottoms out.

"Ya like tha', don'cha? Easy li'l Con."

Barricade doesn't answer,  _what could he say, really?_  The Interceptor looks up at the Weapons specialist, the big mech stroking his thick spike while watching Barricade get fragged into the floor. He smirks at the bright opticed stare he get from the Decepticon.

"Yeah, you're going to take this little thing when he's done with you." 

Barricade whines but seems unable to look away.

Ricochet reaches around and plays with Barricade's node, the Interceptor crying out and shuddering as he overloads. The Autobot groans, obviously spilling his transfluid inside the Con. Ironhide chuckles at the sight.

"He really is wanton, like you said."

Ricochet pulls out and gets up on shaky legs, still holding the Decepticon down until Ironhide grabs him. The Weapons specialist easily lifts the Mustang,  _as if he weighs nothing_ , and smashes his back against the wall, the Topkick's thick arms sliding under Barricade's thighs to spread and pin him, servos on the smaller mech's aft. Barricade's arms wraps around the Pick up's thick neck.

"You're getting into this now aren't you?" Ironhide arches an optical ridge.

Barricade shakes his helm, optics brightening when the big Autobot starts to push into him. 

It is obscene, the way that thick spike slides into his valve, rim snug around the girth. Barricade's servos scrabbles over thick shoulder plating when the lenght finally bottoms out and he pants his invents. The angle must be brutal on his ceiling node.

The Bot starts thrusting, slowly but powerfully, rocking the Interceptor with every thrust, Barricade crying out and whimpering, hanging on to broad shoulders for dear functioning. Then the little Decepticon suddenly overloads hsrd, pedes wrapping around the Bot to push him even deeper. Ironhide chuckles.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?"

"Wanna share?" Ricochet smirks at the sight, spike pressurized again.

A nasty smirk stretches the Weapons specialist's intake.

"Table?"

"Yeah."

The Topkick doesn't even slide out, he just carries the still limp Interceptor to the table. Ricochet comes around to the other side of the table, pumping his spike slowly with his servo. Barricade turns his helm, still muzzy after his last overload, as he's placed on his back, Ironhide still inside him.

"Wait, what...??" Barricade starts struggling.

Ricochet grabs his wriststruts.

"No-no, r'member wha' we said! Make a fuzz 'n' we'll call in a few more. Bet a whole lotta Bots would line up ta frag ya. But maybe ya'd  _like_  tha'?"

"Sideswipe, Crosshairs, Dino... Bumblebee  _hates_  ya, no?" Ironhide ticks off.

Barricade stills and Ricochet slides his servos along the Interceptor's arms.

"Good li'l Con. Open up." Ricochet taps Barricade's intake. "'N' remember, if ya so much as  _scratch_  mah spike with those denta, I'm stickin' it somewhere ya really,  _really_  won't like."

Barricade opens his intake, denta folding back flat. Ricochet grabs his chin and as Ironhide pushes the Saleen further up on the table, Ricochet guides his helm over the edge and slides his spike deep into the open intake.

"Fraggin' pit, he's  _constructed_  ta frag like this." Ricochet groans.

Then none of them speaks, picking up a rhythm where Barricade is rocked back and forth between the Autobots. His servos comes up to rest on Ricochet's hips to steady himself. The Bots chuckle, it really looks like Barricade likes it.

Ironhide supports the Decepticon's legs with his arms while plowing into him with brutal force. Barricade groans around the spike with the deeper penetration. Then Ironhide sets off the chain reaction. 

He starts rubbing Barricade's node and it doesn't take long before the Interceptor arches his backstrut at an angle that doesn't seem possible, overloading so hard his optics flickers. He cries out, making Ricochet's hips stutter in an erratic rhythm as he empties his transfluid down Barricade's intake. Ironhide growls out his release, pushing in deep, and it seems to wring another small overload out of the Decepticon. 

The Autobots backs away, but Barricade is still laying limp on the table, rebooting. Transfluid and lubricant is dripping out of his sloppy valve, pooling under his aft.

"He looks good like that." Ironhide snickers.

"He does." Ricochet watches the offline mech with a smirk as they wipe themselves down.

"We should do this again."

 

~*~*~*~

 

The recording stops. The silence hang heavy in the command room.

"I'll contact Prime. The perpetrators must be punished. They're even speaking about doing it again, we might have an epidemic on our servos." Megatron is first to speak.

"We must get our mechs to understand that this is unacceptable behavior. Or nobot will ever dare pick up the solvent in the washracks again. Neither Autobot not Decepticon would go safe." Starscream adds.

"Stress that given consent is crucial. There might be volunteers. Vortex for one..." Onslaught says.

"You're offering up your gestalt mate as a fragtoy?" Scrapper's voice is derisive.

"No, but if somebot asks him and he says yes, who am I to stop it? Might give more than one mech an outlet for a kink or two."

"You're right. I'm just going to comm Bonecrusher and Long Haul. Excuse me for a second."

Onslaught raises an optical ridge. "Should I give Vortex a heads up?"

"Please do."

 

*****

 

"Pardon this extremely awkward meeting in advance, but I _have_  to ask, since I was contacted by a  _concerned_  Megatron, something very disturbing might I add." Prime says. 

One of the four mechs sitting opposite him squirms embarrassedly, one grins unrepentantly, the third snorts in amusement and the fourth rolls his optics.

"It has been brought to my attention that Decepticon high command has gotten their servos on a vid clip of two Autobots interfacing with a non-consenting Decepticon prisoner. While the thought is appalling, this particular shenanigan has  _Jazz_  written all over it." Prime stares expectantly at his grinning third in command.

"It might've been mah  _idea,_ per se, but I'm not tha one ta write tha script. Not all o' it, at least." He grins at Barricade.

"I got to see the clip and I'm concerned, of course, because it doesn't look good. Barricade, were you truly consenting to everything that was done to you?" Optimus fragging Prime asks him with concern in his voice.

Barricade wishes he could smelt on the spot. He still hasn't fully come to terms with all his kinks himself, and admitting them out loud?  _Hello embarrassment._

But Prime sits there, staring at him with that look that could bring anybot to spill his darkest secrets.  _Dammit, that mechs optics could be a secret weapon for interrogation._

"Yes, I...ah... I consented. Me and Jazz has done a vid before. Frenzy showed it to high command and we sort of..."  _It's hard to continue in front of all these mechs._  "We did a sequel to make it look like I was forced so they wouldn't think I'm a traitor." He mumbles.

"So you consented to making an interface video, but not the acts themselves?" Prime wants clarification.  _Of course he needs Barricade to say it out loud._

"I liked it!  _Wanted_  it. It didn't hurt, that's just part of the game." Barricade hides his face behind his servos.  _Why, oh why did it have to come to this?_

"So they didn't break your seal in an unnecessarily painful way?" Prime presses.

"My seals were already gone when we did this." Barricade whispers.

"I checked their firewalls and antivirals before and after, that's all  _I_  did. Can I go now? I have Bots to maintenance instead of discussing this idiocy." Ratchet growls tersely, clearly tired of the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Very well. I might call you back for second opinions though." Prime says, dismissing the medic.

Ratchet storms out, slamming the door.

"So you really wanted to be treated like that? You seemed to be in pain a couple of times and Jazz took a drill to you."

_Barricade wants to offline. Can a mech offline from mortification? He just might._

"No, it felt  _really_  good. We were playing a game, acting out my fantasies. Even had a safeword." He admits.

"We installed a fake plate just for this, so he wouldn't be hurt." Ironhide adds.

"I'm surprised that  _you_  would agree with something like this." Prime arches an optical ridge at his Weapons specialist.

Ironhide shrugs. "'Facing is fun, I like being dominant. But you know  _that_ , Prime. And Barricade is a fine piece of aft." He leers, winking at the Interceptor.

Barricade squirms in embarrassment.  _Why can't the ground open up and swallow him whole?_

"Jus' lookit this, tha cameras were still rollin' afterwards. Tha' thing ya saw was edited to fool tha Cons." Jazz says, playing another recording.

 

~*~*~*~

 

As Barricade reboots, the Autobots are there immediately.

"Ya ok, sweetspark?" Jazz asks, helping Barricade to sit up.

"Yes. Oh. A little _messy_?"

Ironhide chuckles and hands the Decepticon a cube of energon and a cloth.

"You did really well. Are you sore or anything?" The Weapons specialist asks.

"I don't think so. Maybe in a good way. You're big." Barricade answers, sipping his cube.

Ironhide smirks.

Jazz wraps his arms around Barricade and kisses his helm.

"I wanna help ya clean up. Can ya walk to tha washracks."

"Of course I can." 

Barricade stands but looks wobbly. Jazz doesn't taunt him for it. The spy just presses closer, disguising his support as snuggling, and they slowly make their way to the door.

"I'll clean this up, you two go have some..  _fun_." Ironhide leers.

"Thanx my mech." Jazz blows him a kiss.

"You two can  _repay_  me later." Ironhide snickers.

"Catch up with us as soon as ye're done here." Jazz invites the Weapons specialist.

"This time,  _I'm_  spiking somebot." Barricade mumbles tiredly.

"I'll hold you to that." Jazz purrs.

 

 


End file.
